


Dull

by Lindentreeisle (Captainblue)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Kink Meme, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-12
Updated: 2011-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-15 14:24:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/161706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captainblue/pseuds/Lindentreeisle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: The reason Sherlock takes cabs all the time (other than because he's wildly impractical), isn't because he can't drive or because he finds driving too boring (although it is, really). It's because of all the SPEED CAMERAS. John finds out how maniacally Sherlock drives and why he stopped in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dull

"Sherlock- he's getting in a car," John said urgently, dropping his half-eaten sandwich onto the table.

Sherlock, who had been furiously texting Lestrade for the past five minutes, shoved his phone into his pocket and stood up. "Lestrade is several minutes away. There's a cab parked at the corner."

They ran to the taxi flat-out, but that was common enough in the city and didn't draw the target's attention as he pulled off. "Shit!" John said. "The cabbie must be having lunch. We'll have to-" He paused, seeing Sherlock doing something to the door handle. "Sherlock." He instinctively scanned the area for police as Sherlock opened the door. "What are you _doing_?"

"Get in, you're drawing attention." Sherlock slid into the driver's seat and hit the door release, and John got in almost automatically.

"We're stealing a car. Why are we stealing a car?"

"Not stealing," Sherlock said, locating a set of keys tucked behind the visor. "Illicit borrowing. Theft requires an intent to permanently deprive." He turned the key in the ignition.

"It alarms me that you know that. If it's even true, because it sounds like bollocks." John frowned anxiously out the window, craning his head to look in every direction. No one seemed to have taken notice of them. "Do you actually know _how_ to drive?"

"I know many things." Sherlock's hand went to the gearshift. "I understand that most people appreciate being advised to fasten their seatbelts at this point."

John fumbled with the buckle and slotted it into place just as Sherlock put the car in drive and pulled abruptly into traffic. John could hear a squeal of suddenly-applied brakes and a blaring wail of horns, but he didn't dare take his eyes off their target car. The traffic was light and the car was far enough ahead that it was almost out of sight. Sherlock accelerated so quickly that the motor screamed up past 4000 RPM before it kicked into a higher gear. As they approached a yellow light, the car ahead slowed and Sherlock jerked the wheel sideways, using several empty parking spaces as a lane to pass the car and blast through the light as it turned red.

"Jesus Christ!" John yelped. "That was _red_ , Sherlock!" They blew straight through another intersection without slowing, dodging several terrified pedestrians. "So was that one! Bit not good, Sherlock, red means _stop_."

"Don't distract me." Sherlock's eyes were intently focused on the road, but his grip on the wheel was light and his shoulders were loose and relaxed. If John only had Sherlock's voice and posture to go on, he would have thought this was a peaceful Sunday drive.

"I think it's safer when we just chase them over the roofs," John said.

"Don't be ridiculous. This becomes a thoroughfare and we couldn't pursue on foot at those speeds." Sure enough, the road quickly broadened to four lanes. John's fingers tightened their grip on the seatbelt across his chest as Sherlock began to make use of both left-hand lanes to slalom around the other traffic.

Sherlock hummed with pleasure, remarking, "This is a shockingly responsive car. For a cab, anyway."

John gritted his teeth. _I don't want to know, I don't want to know..._ "You're enjoying this way too much."

"You're not?" Sherlock sounded surprised. He darted a glance at John, then looked back at the road just in time to swerve round a cyclist, passing so close that John would swear they brushed the woman's sleeve.

"Normally when we risk our lives, there's something I can actively do to prevent my being murdered."

"Ah, the illusion of control," Sherlock said, as they gained on their target, which had slowed and was indicating a right turn. " _Dull._ " He viciously cut the wheel and sent the car into a skid that clipped a fender and sent a (fortunately parked) bicycle flying. John was flung heavily against his seatbelt, which hurt his chest and left a red welt on his neck. The tires unlocked and Sherlock twitched the wheel straight just in time to avoid destroying a letterbox.

" _Living_ is not _dull_!" John protested.

"Exactly!" The driver they were chasing evidently realized he was being pursued at that point; he accelerated and attempted to turn another corner at speed. Apparently there was more of an art to controlled skids than John had realized, because their target couldn't quite manage it. He spun out of control and only avoided rolling the car by bouncing off a convenient light post. The car spun to a stop against a wall.

Sherlock slammed on the brakes, throwing John into the seatbelt again with a violent " _Fuck!_ " John clumsily unbuckled himself, more than ready to be out of the taxi.

Sherlock, who had somehow clung to his seat like a limpet _without_ the benefit of a seatbelt, jerked the gearshift to park, kicked his door open, and scrambled out. "Quick John, he's running!"

Sure enough, the target had wriggled out through the window of his wrecked car and was taking off up the road at a staggering run. John was in overdrive, and burst into motion as all the adrenaline that had been flooding into his system for the past five minutes was suddenly given an outlet. He beat his long-legged flatmate to their quarry, catching him in a full tackle, so that the pursuit ended with desperate grappling (from the suspect) and an incapacitating chokehold (from John).

John gasped out, "Right, you're nicked," and both he and Sherlock ended up giggling off the remains of their adrenaline high like a pair of proper idiots. It was _almost_ worth the mad car chase, although John meant it about preferring rooftops, and it was all quite nice, really. At least until the police showed up.

Sherlock was entirely too cheerful through the whole arrest process, in John's opinion, but it wasn't until they were sitting at the station waiting for a custody officer that he had a chance to say so.

"Quit fretting about it," Sherlock said. John felt sweaty and mussed and a little tired, but Sherlock managed to look suave and relaxed even on a folding chair with his hands cuffed behind him, the _bastard_. "It's just joyriding. Barely even a criminal offense."

"Had a lot of experience, then, have you?" John said snippily. "I expect you had to give up driving when they slapped you with an ASBO?"

"No," Sherlock said absently.

John wasn't sure whether to interpret that as _No, I haven't had an ASBO_ or _No, the ASBO never stopped me._ "They took your license, then," John guessed. "Or you never had one."

"My license is in my wallet," Sherlock said. He smirked a little.

"All right, I give up," John said, slouching down even further in his chair in an attempt to stretch his cramping back. "You despise public transit and spend half your money on cabs, which I can only imagine cuts into your chemistry-supplies-and-dry-cleaning budget. So what stops you driving?"

"Speed cameras."

"Speed-" John began to laugh. "No, that's perfect. Sherlock Holmes is fearful of speed cameras."

Sherlock favored him with a withering look. "I'm not fearful, I just don't like them. They're _inefficient_."

"How is it inefficient to get a speeding ticket by post?"

"I wouldn't even know I'd been caught speeding until two weeks later, and of course by that time I had deleted the details of the incident." Sherlock crossed his legs. "I had to spend half my life in court. On the whole, taxis are less frustrating, if also significantly less exciting."

John was still giggling. "Well perhaps you should start driving again. Seeing as how your life is so _stiflingly tedious_ without-"

"Shut up."


End file.
